


Quintet

by Salchat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Arguing, Banter, Gen, Humor, Sharing a Bed, Suggestive Themes, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26442646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salchat/pseuds/Salchat
Summary: The retro-virus has worked and the Wraith need no longer feed on human lives.  But now huge quantities of food are required and Todd has joined Sheppard's team as PR man for his people, hoping to strike some deals for supplies.  Choosing the community least likely to shoot on sight, the team of five begin their mission to feed the hungry Wraith and immediately end up in an interestingly cozy situation.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 30
Collections: Oh for the love of Todd!





	Quintet

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Mavet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mavet/pseuds/Mavet) in the [Todd_fanworks_challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Todd_fanworks_challenge) collection. 



> I have set my story on Paiana, a world I created for 'A different kind of friendship'. You don't need to have read that story, though; I just needed a friendly society and felt like revisiting the Paianans. I admit, there's not a great deal of action, but I hope there's enough conversation between the team. I wanted to place them in an interestingly confined situation to see what they'd do, and then I just left them to it. I wrote it with love and I hope it fulfills the prompt sufficiently well.
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> Teamfic! What if Todd was a regular member of AR1? How would his presence impact the dynamic of Sheppard's team? What crazy adventured would they have? How would the Pegasus natives respond to a Wraith amidst Atlantis' flagship team?
> 
> You decide! Can be Gen or Todd/Sheppard if you really want to push my buttons (though their ship should not be the central focus), and I've left the rating open for whatever the author decides! I'd really like the focus to be on the team dynamics and the crazy shenanigans they get up to on their adventures!
> 
> Things I Don't Want: crackfic; non-con/rape; main character death; underage; crossovers.

It wasn't John Sheppard's worst nightmare; far from it. His worst nightmares were usually remixes of crap that had already happened to him and, compared to them, there was no way this cozy little situation would make the grade. Nevertheless, he wasn't comfortable, either in mind or body, and if it hadn't been for the commitment he'd made, not to mention the freezing cold air outside the single meagre blanket, he would've made a determined break for freedom or at least for some level of acceptable physical distance from the rest of his team. But he had made a commitment. They all had. And if any kind of trading agreement was going to be reached to supply food, or even cultivable land to a certain party of newly food-digesting ex-life-sucking space vampires, then first his expanded team had to prove their trust in each other. Then maybe, just maybe, the gentle, touchy-feely Paianans would trade with said ex-life-suckers.

The springy mattress bounced as Teyla shifted restlessly. She wriggled round to face him, her hot puffs of breath on the side of his neck. For a moment there was peace and stillness and John’s eyes closed. Then Teyla began worming down the bed, pulling the blanket up around her face, its edge gripped tight in her fist. A small, frustrated squeak made its way out through the fabric.

“S’up, Teyla?”

Teyla’s muffled voice penetrated the blanket sharply. “I cannot still my mind ready for sleep. Not when another’s thoughts are continually intruding!”

“Todd!”

“Sheppard?”

“Keep it down!”

“I made no sound.”

“No, but your Wraithiness is leaking out and upsetting Teyla.”

“My thoughts are firmly under my control. I cannot be responsible for her over-sensitivity.”

John rolled his eyes into the darkness, reminded of family camping trips where his parents had had to separate him and his brother. “Would it help if we swapped places, Teyla?”

“I believe it might. Close proximity to such an active mind is very difficult.”

“Okay, erm. I’ll shuffle left and you roll over me?”

This complicated manoeuvre was performed with much bouncing and elbows and knees in the wrong places and embarrassed apologies on both sides. The cold draught jabbed its way down into the bed as the blanket lifted. Teyla slid down John’s right side and he felt her shivers subside.

What a stupid situation to be in. But no more stupid, he supposed, than many situations they’d found themselves in over the years, and considerably less dangerous than some. John tried to retreat to a far corner of his mind, but couldn’t entirely suppress his instincts, which on the one hand would have had him leaping up and yelling for some god-damn space, but on the other hand gave him the urge to pull his team around him just for some relief from the bitter cold. He’d bolster himself on one side with McKay and on the other with Ronon and drag Teyla, blanket-like, back on top. Todd could stay out on his own, because there was no way he was snuggling up with a Wraith (any more than he had to), and not because Todd was a (former) life-sucking space vampire, but simply because -

“Todd, will you get your feet away from me? They’re like ice blocks!”

“My apologies, Sheppard. My natural body temperature is considerably lower than yours.”

“I’d noticed that, thanks! It’s like sleeping next to a popsicle. If I was sleeping, which I’m not.”

“I will relinquish my share of the blanket. I do not need it.”

“Thanks,” said John grudgingly, tucking the blanket between himself and Todd. It was immediately yanked out, letting in a freezing blast of bitter air. “What the hell? McKay!”

“Don’t yell at me!” Rodney’s indignant face popped up over Teyla. “I’m just lying here, minding my own business. Or trying to.”

“I am sorry, John.”

“Teyla? I hadn’t figured you for a blanket thief.”

“It was pulled tight between you and Rodney, so that it did not touch me at all and I was cold.”

“Well, okay, I see your point, but now I’m only half covered. Ronon.” There was no answer from the dark shape beyond Rodney. “Ronon!”

“Huh?”

“Asleep, are we? Nice and cozy? All wrapped up snug?” John sat up and wrenched at the blanket but it was held fast against him. He pulled harder.

“John. It will tear if you pull that hard!”

Rodney bounced angrily and snatched at the blanket. “Put it down, Sheppard, it’s freezing!”

“Give it up, Chewie, you’ve got way more than your fair share.”

“I’m bigger’n any of you. I should have the most.”

“That is not fair, Ronon. I am gaining no warmth because I am smaller so that the blanket was crossing above me like a bridge.”

“Okay, settle down, everyone.” John wasn’t sure whether he was using his command voice or his mother’s ‘end of my patience’ voice; maybe they were the same. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. Teyla, you take Ronon’s place, so that the blanket’ll tuck round you and then go over the rest of us.”

There was a grumbling out of the darkness.

“Got something to say, big guy?”

“No.”

“Good. Teyla?”

“I am deciding which route to take.”

“C’mon, then. The sooner we get settled the sooner we can get warm.”

“I do not require warmth.”

“Todd excepted,” added John.

Teyla inch-wormed her way down the bed, slid out of the end and her bare feet thudded against the wooden floor boards as she ran around the far side.

“Ronon! Let me in.”

_“Chewie.”_

“Alright! I’m moving.”

The bed bounced and the blanket flapped up and down and then came to rest. John had just enough to pull round him and wedge in the gap between himself and Todd.

“Can we please all get to sleep now?” demanded Rodney. “It’s been a particularly trying day!”

“We’re all tired, Rodney.”

“I do not require sleep, John Sheppard.”

“Todd excepted,” John qualified, again. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Rodney was right. It had been a difficult day. The Paianans’ representative, Arhal (who reminded John of a young and innocent version of Walter Harriman), had met them at the Gate and greeted Todd with reserved courtesy. He had taken them to the teaching house, which was separate from the main village on a low hill near the Gate. John and Rodney had spent some time there before, one Paianan summer. They had slept on the veranda but had still been too hot. Now it was winter and, despite a roaring fire the draughty teaching house had been cold when they arrived and, as night descended, the temperature had dropped still further..

They had sat close to the fireplace sipping hot, spicy drinks as Arhal tentatively put forward the community’s proposal. And then he had shown them to the room with the solitary bed. It made sense, from a Paianan point of view, John supposed. To lower your guard enough to sleep spoke of a deep trust in those around you, and the dimensions of the bed, though large, necessitated a high level of up-close-and-personal contact. The Paianans, being the galaxy's number one uninhibited cuddlers, had wanted the contact to be skin-to-skin and it had taken all of Teyla's determinedly smiling relentless tact to bargain for t-shirts and underwear to be retained.

And there, John mused, his tired eyes blinking into the darkness, he had to admit to a certain degree of fascination; a fascination shared by at least two members of his original team if the sidelong glances and surreptitiously flicking eyes had been anything to go by. Ronon had blatantly turned his back and taken the far side of the bed. His loss. How many humans had seen a Wraith divested of all the cool black leather? John had met Rodney’s eyes, round beneath high-arching eyebrows, and made a face while grimacing, which McKay almost certainly interpreted correctly as amazement at the long, zig-zagging, curling black lines which decorated the pale green skin of Todd’s arms and legs. Rodney had replied with a quizzical half-shrug and jerk of his head, which John was pretty sure acknowledged their shared speculation on the full extent of the tattooing. John wondered why Wraith had developed telepathy sometimes. A lot could be conveyed through shrugs and facial contortions, or at least it could between him and his team. Teyla had sent them both suppressing ‘mind-your-own-business’ glares, but only after she’d copped an eyeful, he’d noticed.

And then there was the underwear; Wraith underwear, which John had never wondered about. Because why would he, when he was pretty much focussed on the whole not dying thing? As they had neatly folded their clothes (or dumped them in a heap in some cases), Todd's black sleeveless undershirt had brushed John’s arm. It felt like the softest, supplest suede and for a moment John had been repulsed, knowing that the Wraith regarded humans as cattle and drawing the obvious conclusion. Then common sense had kicked in - there wasn’t a whole lot left of their human victims once they’d been fed on and certainly not enough that wearing clothes of such sickening provenance could be a viable proposition. Todd's boxer-short type garment was also black and looked to be made of the same thing. Pretty cool, for underwear. Should he ask if Todd could get him some? Did you ask a ten thousand year old Wraith where he shopped for underwear? Maybe if you were squashed into a bed with him, the answer was yes.

Rodney huffed and wriggled, then wriggled and huffed. His shoulder jostled John’s and his restless legs let in draughts from the foot of the bed.

“Stop messing about, McKay.”

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"Rodney! Why didn’t you go before you got in?”

“I did! The cold always makes me want to go more.”

“I’m not moving,” Ronon grunted.

“I have to go. The situation is becoming critical.”

“Well, you'd better head south. I’m not moving either,” said John.

The mattress bounced and Rodney’s head slowly disappeared beneath the blanket and then his shrouded form retreated down the bed. There was a thud.

“Ow. Holy crap, it’s cold out here!” Rodney scrambled and thudded to the small bathroom. The sounds of his much-needed release and grateful sigh easily penetrated the closed door. Teyla sighed. A soft breath of a hiss came from Todd’s direction.

“You okay there, Todd?”

The shoulder on his left gave a very slight shrug. “This is a situation that I have not encountered before.”

“No. Er, I would say this kind of thing doesn’t happen very often, but, we’ve had a fair few missions where we’ve had to, uh, respect local customs.”

“Indeed. Respecting local customs is not something that would generally occur to my kind.”

“No.”

“It is interesting. Very few things are novel to one of my age.”

“I guess.”

There was a low growl from John’s right. Maybe he should swap places with Ronon so that he and Todd could bond; or maybe not. Ronon had not been pleased at Todd's addition to the team and when Arhal had revealed the Paianans' wishes, if it hadn't been for John's vice-like grip on his arm and a direct, eye-to-eye glare, he'd have made a hasty, angry exit back to the Gate.

An object hurtled out of the darkness and forced its way up through the bed once more, accompanied by the chattering of teeth.

“Cold! So cold!” 

“Stop shoving me McKay!”

“You’ve moved into my space, Conan,” complained the lump beneath the blankets. “I can’t get in.”

“Ronon, stop. I am going to fall out!”

“Sorry, Teyla. McKay’s pushing.”

“I can’t get in!”

“Calm down, kids,” said John. “There’s space for everyone. Well, there was before Rodney got out, and I haven’t moved.”

Rodney’s head forced its way out from beneath the blanket, his body squashing John closer to Todd. The blanket slid out from between them and cold splashed like water along his exposed arm and leg. 

"We all need to lie on our sides," Rodney announced. “Then we might at least have room to breathe.”

"All spooned up together?" John tugged in vain at the blanket.

"Yes. Spooned up like a whole cutlery drawer of spoons. Trust me, we’ll all take up less space and we'll get more sleep."

"More? I haven't had any."

"I do not require -"

"We know!" 

Todd’s shuddering hiss was probably a laugh, John hoped.

“Okay, which way are we gonna face?”

“I sleep better on my left side,” said Rodney.

“Alright, left it is. Everyone turn at once. Ready?”

There was a chorus of acknowledging noises.

“Okay, after three. One, two, three, turn.”

The mattress became a stormy sea. John bounced and flailed, grabbed Todd’s shoulder for balance, received an elbow in the chest in return, a headbutt to the back of his neck from Rodney and then the storm subsided.

“All cozy now?”

“I am well, John.”

“Yeah, fine.”

“You see, I was right.” Rodney’s breath ruffled John’s hair.

“Todd?”

“This position is as comfortable as any.”

John wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad. His nose twitched as Todd’s unruly hair reached out to tickle it and he carefully smoothed some strands down with one finger. 

Rodney’s hips jerked forward. John pushed back. Sotto voce mutterings came from behind him and Rodney pushed forward into his space again.

"Ronon?"

"Yeah, what?"

"There's something digging in my butt."

"Huh. Ignore it."

"I can't," said Rodney tightly. "It's hard and it's bruising my delicate areas."

"Okay. I’ll just reach down and take care of it ."

"That's it! I'm getting out!" Rodney scrabbled his way up to the headboard.

John spun around, narrowly missing Rodney's flailing foot. "God, Chewie, leave it alone! I'm not lying here listening to you, you know... do that!"

"That would be most distasteful," added Todd.

"Ronon," said Teyla, wearily. "It is a knife, isn't it? Give it to me."

A smirking chuckle and the glint of moonlight on Ronon's grin were followed by the dull sound of a leather scabbard hitting the floor.

Rodney subsided, his grumbles mixing with Ronon’s amused snorts. John turned away from Rodney once more and arranged an arm between himself and Todd so that he wouldn’t have to endure any painful encounters with the bony ridge of the Wraith’s spine. Warmth spread over his back as Rodney slotted in between him and Ronon and pulled the blanket back around himself. Maybe now they’d all get to sleep. Except Todd.

He’d reckoned without Rodney’s active brain. “At least they only want us to sleep together, as in actual sleep. Not that we’re getting any. I mean, thank God they don’t want us to do anything. I mean, like, any kind of sex thing.”

“There’d be no room,” grunted Ronon.

“Sex thing?” John’s weary thoughts reeled. “How does your mind work, McKay?” 

“It’s not my mind, thank you very much! Haven’t you read the SG-1 mission reports?”

“Yes I have,” John replied. “There was nothing about that kind of stuff. Unless you count Hathor.”

“Seriously, you haven’t read the censored ones?”

“What censored ones?”

“Well, are you in for a treat! I mean, after the first few you start wondering what’s up with the Milky Way. Why the obsession with making people do stuff?”

“The first few? So, you’re saying they had to, you know… more than once?”

“Way more. Unless they were making it up. Which isn’t beyond the realms of possibility.”

John recalled his experience with the members of the former SG-1. They all had a certain inner sparkle in their eyes, as if they knew something you didn’t. Even butter-wouldn’t-melt Jackson, and especially the unrealistically deadpan Teal’c.

“So, who, um, with who?”

“You name it,” said Rodney with relish. “My only regret is that I never accompanied them on such a mission, or things between me and Colonel Carter might have worked out quite differently!”

“Yeah, she would’ve used you as a human shield,” grunted Ronon.

There was silence apart from five sets of contemplative breaths and, no doubt, a whole bunch of speculative thoughts. John remembered his few missions leading a team from the SGC, when the Ancients had kicked them out of Atlantis. He’d never really bonded with the members of that team and was heartily glad there’d been no sex-obsessed aliens to force the issue.

Rodney broke the silence again. “So if we encountered the classic ‘aliens made us do it’ scenario, how would that pan out?”

Todd's stillness screamed close attention. 

"Pan out?” John repeated, not sure this kind of conversation should be encouraged, but unable to stop himself.

“Yeah, who with who?”

“Shut up and go to sleep, McKay.”

“Oh, don’t pretend you weren’t thinking exactly the same thing, Ronon!”

“Rodney, in the unlikely event that happens, I’m pretty sure the aliens would have their own ideas.” Sandwiched between Todd and Rodney, John's imagination spiralled out of control and all of his muscles tensed.

“Our number is not divisible by two,” stated Todd.

“Oh, are you listening?" Rodney bounced and loomed above John's shoulder, letting in the draught again. "I thought you must have gone into Wraithy hibernation. But, you’re right, of course. There’d have to be a pair and a threesome.”

John winced. _"Rodney."_

"Or, hey, maybe just a kind of free-for-all; a 'fivesome', so to speak. Ow! Ronon!"

"Rodney. That is enough."

"He kicked me! What did you do that for?"

"Just shut up, McKay!"

"Why? Nobody's sleeping. I was just making conversation."

"Maybe no-one wants to hear it." There was a dangerous edge to Ronon's voice.

"Such things are not uncommon amongst my kind."

"What fivesomes?"

John grimaced. Todd just had to drop the bait, didn't he? McKay wouldn't let up now til he'd heard all the juicy details.

"Five… more… A queen has her consort and her favoured few. The rest must find amusement where they may."

"So, what kind of thing - Ow! Sheppard, tell this caveman to keep his size fifteens to himself!"

"Ronon."

"Tell him to shut the hell up."

"Both of you!" The silver hair stirred in front of John's face and the grey-green shoulder, edged in moonlight, quivered. Damn him. "Just go to sleep!"

A humph from Rodney and an angry grunt from Ronon was followed by silence.

"There is no need to worry," said Todd softly and John closed his eyes tightly, not in the blissful thrall of sleep, but in cringing anticipation. "Were it required, for the sake of my hungry people, I would willingly suffer such indignities."

Ronon's quickened breathing was clearly audible.

"Todd, I don't think -"

"Indeed, perhaps it would be no hardship. The soft warmth of human skin against mine -"

"Todd!" John prodded the bony shoulder.

"- the heat surrounding my -"

The bed exploded. John dived forward to prevent Ronon's attack, tackling him as he pounded round the foot of the bed. His chest slammed into a powerful shoulder, Ronon staggered, but threw John off with a roar of fury and amid the confusion, Todd's soft, mocking laughter continued.

"Ronon, stop! That's an order!"

There was a glint of a blade. John scrambled up from the cold wooden floorboards just as Ronon bunched his fist in the front of Todd's shirt and hauled him upward, the razor sharp tip pressed to the Wraith's throat.

"Ronon, let him go."

"Ronon, no!"

Todd, on his knees at the edge of the bed, tilted his chin, exposing his throat further.

Ronon's lips were drawn back in a snarl, his body trembling with hate.

"Ronon, drop the knife." John reached out a pacifying hand. "We need this deal. We need Todd! C'mon, Chewie, let it go."

"How can I? How can _you? Any_ of you?"

Teyla spoke. "Ronon, we have all suffered. My people as well as yours. Put down the knife."

Todd's eyes flickered in the darkness. "Strike. Strike if you will," he hissed.

The tip of the blade sank into taut flesh and dark blood sprang out in a fat bead, growing, then bursting to trickle down and pool in the hollow of Todd's throat.

Ronon's fist clenched even tighter in the strained black fabric, the muscles of his arm bulging and quivering.

"Let the past go, Ronon," Teyla urged.

"Do it," Todd taunted. "Plunge your knife deep."

"Drop the knife! Ronon!" This was getting way out of John's control.

"Kill that which you hate." Todd paused and named Ronon, with deliberate, hissing contempt, "Runner."

The blade drew back and John hurled himself forward and jumped, arms stretched out for Ronan’s knife hand. His fingers closed round his teammate’s wrist and he squeezed, grinding the bones together as he forced Ronon's arm up and back. The weapon clattered to the floor Ronon shoved John away with a roar of frustration and swung at Todd with his closed fist. A blow landed with a snapping thud. Then another. John forced his way between them and received the third to the side of his head, while Rodney hung off Ronon’s arm and Teyla drove her fingers into a nerve cluster, making Ronon yell, but not deterring him. Todd didn’t make a sound.

Then the room was flooded with light and everyone froze. 

Their host stood on the threshold, a lantern raised, his face curiously unsurprised.

An icy draught blew through the door. The lantern flickered.

“I guess -” John tried to shake the ringing from his head, panting hard. “I guess we blew the deal.”

Ronon slowly lowered his fist and then wrenched himself out of his teammates' gripping hands and spun away, arms closing across his chest, shoulders hunched. Todd slumped to the bed, probing his battered face with his fingertips. Rodney’s wide, anxious eyes met John’s.

“I am sorry, Arhal.” There was a repressed tremor in Teyla’s voice. “If you wish, we will depart immediately.

Arhal lowered his lantern and John blinked away the bright spots in his vision.

The lantern lowered further. “Put on some warm clothing,” said Arhal. “We will talk.”

oOo

They sat once again around the fire, freshly bright with logs. Arhal had made more of the spicy drink, although John thought he detected a faint alcoholic note this time. His stiff muscles began to relax in the heat and the flickering firelight and he allowed his gaze to wander around the row of orange-lit faces. Todd appeared none the worse for wear, his healing mechanism slower without the rocket fuel of human life-force, but effective nonetheless. He sipped his drink impassively. Teyla, once more calm and collected, did the same, and Rodney gulped his drink appreciatively, while nervously glancing at Ronon, who had refused any offer of refreshment and isolated himself behind his tightly crossed arms and defensive scowl. Arhal stared into the flames.

“I’m sorry, Arhal,” John apologised. “We couldn’t do it. We’ll head back to the Gate soon.”

“You can of course leave when you wish. But I did not imagine that you would be able to sleep a night together without conflict arising.”

Rodney burst out, indignantly, “Then why -”

“Peace, Rodney.” Arhal held up a placating hand. Then he reached beneath the bench and drew out a tin. He opened it and held it out.

“Hm, don’t mind if I do.” Rodney took a cookie and began nibbling, while the tin was passed around.

John broke his cookie in half, thoughtfully. “Why did you set us a task you knew we couldn’t fulfill, Arhal?”

Arhal smiled. “It was not hard to see the tensions that existed between you. Our task was designed as much for you to explore these tensions as for you to prove your trust in each other.” He turned to Todd. “You are much stronger than any human. Why did you allow Ronon to attack you?”

“He didn’t just allow, he provoked,” said John.

“You are, of course, correct, John Sheppard. I provoked and I allowed and I did those things because they needed to happen.”

Ronon’s head jerked round.

“Ah.” Arhal gave a satisfied nod.

“But he could’ve killed you!” John remembered the dark bead of blood. “You can’t tell me even you could survive a having your throat cut.”

“I could not,” agreed Todd, inclining his head gravely. “But, in that case, I would have considered myself a necessary sacrifice.”

“What?”

“If my death by his hand would be enough to end Ronon Dex’s bloodlust, then I offer myself again.”

Ronon leapt up and loomed over Todd. “It’s not enough! It’ll never be enough! I don’t care what’s changed. The only good Wraith is a dead Wraith!”

“Ah, then perhaps my life would have been spent in vain.” 

John tensed, ready to come between Ronon and Todd. Then he caught sight of Arhal’s face, his gaze fixed on the interaction between runner and Wraith, his posture, forward-leaning with anticipation.

“You would kill all Wraith, you say.” Todd looked up and met Ronon’s shadowed eyes. “Could you kill a young one, a Wraithling?”

Ronon hesitated. “Yes! All of them.”

“Even the helpless, newly borne?”

Ronon's clenched fists trembled. His eyes fell, then rose to glare once more at his enemy. “What does it matter? I’d kill all the rest!” He turned away abruptly to face the fire.

“It matters,” said Todd, “because it must not be only me and others like me who are prepared to make a sacrifice but you and others like you.”

Rodney took another biscuit, his gaze flicking between Todd and Ronon.

“Have we not sacrificed enough?” asked Teyla.

“I speak not of human lives, but of vengeance,” said Todd. “If there is to be a lasting peace between our peoples, neither side must seek retribution. And I mentioned young ones with this in mind; we must make this sacrifice not for ourselves, but for our young; our Wraithlings, your children.”

Ronon shifted from foot to foot, his arms still tightly bound about his body, as if holding in his rage. “I can’t just stop hating,” he growled.

“No. Perhaps you will never stop hating. But you can at least feign the appearance of neutrality, so that you do not pass your hate down the generations. That is your sacrifice, Ronon Dex. That is the sacrifice that must always be made to truly end a war.”

Arhal nodded solemnly, but said nothing.

The fire crackled and a log spat. Nobody moved.

"Let it go, Ronon," murmured Teyla. "Set it aside and live your life as best you can."

"C'mon, Chewie." John searched for consoling words. "We'll find you someone else to fight."

Rodney shifted and cleared his throat. "Um… Have a cookie? They're good."

Ronon’s arms fell to his sides. His head dropped. Slowly he turned around. His lips were tightly compressed, his brows lowered like thunderclouds.

“If you need to hit me again, you may do so,” offered Todd.

Ronon’s fists clenched, then slowly, jerkily, relaxed. He shook his head, tightly, glaring down at the impassive, ten thousand year old Wraith.

“Can you do this thing, Ronon?” asked Arhal. “Can you make this sacrifice and encourage others like you to do the same?”

Ronon grimaced as if his mouth were filled with bitterness. “I’ll do it. For the kids.”

Arhal set down the cookie tin and stood up. He placed a hand gently on Ronon’s shoulder. “Keep them always in mind; the young, the innocent. Keep them in your mind and in your heart and I believe that your strength will be enough.”

Ronon nodded sharply and Arhal ushered him back to his seat. He accepted a drink. And, to Rodney’s barely concealed dismay, the cookie tin.

John met Teyla’s eyes, seeing his own relief reflected as well as his exhaustion. Then he looked at Todd. John nodded, an acknowledgement of the Wraith’s forbearance and wisdom and Todd’s lips curled into a very slight smile.

He turned to Arhal. “So, is the deal still on?”

Arhal shrugged, a gesture that had been alien to Paiana before John and his team visited. “The matter is in your hands,” he said.

Rodney spluttered cookie crumbs. “What, we still have to share a bed?”

“You may of course return home.”

“C’mon, Rodney, only a few more hours.” John stood up and stretched. “Ronon?”

The ex-runner put down the cookie tin, empty. “Yeah, I’m comin’”

They trooped back into the bedroom.

“I will bid you goodnight, now.” Arhal closed the door softly.

Outer clothes were shed once more and shivering resumed.

“Okay, folks, you know the drill,” said John. “But can we lie on our right sides? I’m a little bruised from hitting the floor earlier.”

They got in, Ronon curling around Teyla, Rodney complaining that Ronon’s dreads were scratching his face. John crawled across the bed to face Rodney's back. The bed dipped behind him.

“Todd?” John felt his eyelids grow heavy.

“Yes, John Sheppard?”

“Couldja just tuck the blanket in?”

John felt long fingers push the edge of the blanket under his shoulder and back. “Thanks.”

“I’m still cold,” Rodney complained.

John curled his arm around his teammate and felt Rodney’s arm move forward to seek Ronon’s warmth. 

His breathing slowed and his body relaxed. He drifted. 

And just on the cusp of sleep, a heavy weight settled around his waist and a faint whisper breathed in his ear. “John Sheppard…”


End file.
